


Confused Love

by CalimaPraxis



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Arpeggio is an absolute asshole, Brainwashing, F/M, Fluffy, Murray has some issues, Neyla is just misunderstood, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Set during and after Sly 2, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalimaPraxis/pseuds/CalimaPraxis
Summary: What is one to do when their affections towards another causes a rise in confrontation with your master and your lover's friends? A question Neyla has to find an answer to.





	1. A Dance to Remember

** Set during Sly 2, Episode 2 **

 

The ballroom was bustling with activity; couples were taking to the floor to display their skill to the “Lord of the Hills” sitting on his gilded throne, a pair of silver wings outstretched above him, casting long shadows across the room as they blocked the light of a chandelier hanging behind them. If they weren’t dancing, the occupants of the room were speaking in hushed tones, or addressing the master of the palace, filling the room with a warm ambience.

A pair of piercing green eyes darted around the room, inspecting every individual with an equal level of suspicion, due in part to their owner’s agitation. The young tigress to which these eyes belonged sat in a chair of crimson velvet, nervously tapping her forefinger on the glass in her right hand as her left gripped the chair’s arm. This ball, which her partner had forced her to attend, was far from the setting the Interpol officer would have preferred, nor was the revealing attire she had been stuffed into, her physical level of anxiety acting as an adequate expression of these feelings.

Neyla tilted the glass into her lips, feeling the last of the liquid within slide down her throat as she looked across the room to her vulpine partner, dressed in a lavish black gown, conversing with another of the ball’s attendants. Carmelita had explicitly stated that they were not to have so much as a sip of alcohol while they were on duty and, while Neyla respected the inspector’s decision, a tinge of resentment towards her rested in the back of the tigress’ mind, as her only chance of relaxing at the accursed ball had been snatched away as a result.

Watching as the host of the palace rose from his throne to consult his bison associate, the anxiety began to take the better of the tigress, forcing her to her feet as she rose from her chair, prepared to silently slink onto one of the many exterior balconies for some much needed air.

Crossing the dance floor, the tigress set her glass on the bar as she approached the exit. Keeping her posture small to ensure her partner didn’t notice her sudden departure, Neyla found herself standing before the golden throne and statue when she noticed something peculiar: a raccoon male, dressed in a black and blue tuxedo, strode down the carpeted stairs, an aura of confidence radiating from the smirk on his lips. Neyla noticed his thin arms as they adjusted his bowtie upon reaching the bottom step, accentuating the lean build hidden beneath the slightly baggy suit, suggesting his choice of wardrobe was a couple sizes too big. Her nervous gaze watched as the raccoon surveyed the room, before darting to a nearby portrait of the Lord of the Hills to avoid eye-contact. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the raccoon confidently strutting towards her, and stepped over to the portrait, seemingly enamoured by the depiction of her Bengal tiger host, hoping the newcomer would ignore her.

‘The man sure is obsessed with himself, isn’t he?’ despite the smooth and sophisticated tone in his voice, Neyla was nonetheless startled when she realised the raccoon had stepped up to her left flank.

Neyla’s throat quivered as she turned back to the portrait, scouring her vocabulary for the correct dialogue to use, ‘Whatever do you mean?’ she eventually decided, her usual false confidence imbued in her tone.

‘I mean, this has got to be the fifth portrait of “Lord Rajan” I’ve seen since I came in here,’ the raccoon explained, ‘if that’s not narcissism I don’t know what is.’

Neyla let out a half-hearted laugh as she continued to inspect the portrait. She could feel the raccoon’s gaze resting upon her form, prompting her to silently curse the attire Carmelita had forced her to wear. The raccoon was familiar, she knew she had encountered his confident aura before, but raccoons were, based on her experience, incredibly confident people, resulting in the clue being insufficient to help reach her objective of ascertaining his identity. ‘You look lovely this evening, Constable,’ he continued, his gaze finally moving away from her to inspect the crowd, which had noticeably increased following the conclusion of the band’s latest song. Neyla was taken aback by the raccoon’s compliment, confirming that he knew her, even if she didn’t know him.

‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ she quickly inquired, turning to look at the raccoon, her left hand raising to her hip.

The raccoon looked to her, seemingly unsurprised that she didn’t recognise him, ‘I used to chase after you back in Paris?’ he explained, as if to spark a memory within her.

‘Paris?’ her gaze drifted from him as her mind scoured her memories; Neyla hadn’t been to Paris in several weeks, not since she and Carmelita shut down Dimitri Lousteau’s nightclub after the Cooper Gang broke in and stole the Clockwerk Tail Feathers. That was when it clicked as her gaze snapped back to the raccoon standing before her, ‘Sly Cooper?’ she asked in disbelief, barely masking her surprise with a casual tone, looking over to ensure Carmelita hadn’t heard her outburst. ‘You wouldn’t, by any chance, be here to turn yourself in?’ she inquired, her eye line guiding Cooper to Carmelita’s location, ‘Old Ironsides over there would fall out of her dress,’ the thought of the mixture of excitement and aggression the inspector would display upon discovering Cooper’s presence at the ball prompted the tigress to laugh, inciting a small semblance of comfort within her for the first time that evening.

‘As entertaining as that sounds,’ Cooper responded, following the tigress’ gaze to the fox, ‘I’m actually here on business. I haven’t forgotten how you helped me get back the Tail Feathers at the nightclub, so I was hoping you could lend a hand again.’

Neyla looked up at the metallic wings welded to the golden statue at the front of the ballroom before looking back to Carmelita, ‘So you want the wings,’ she deduced as she looked back to Sly, ‘and you want me to help deal with Carmelita.’

The band began to pick up once again as Sly smirked, ‘More or less,’ he confirmed, holding out his hand, ‘care to dance?’

The comfort within her departed as she instinctively stepped back, ‘I, uh, I don’t really do dancing,’ she insisted.

Sly raised an eyebrow as he reached forward and took her hand, ‘Relax,’ he cooed, guiding her onto the dancefloor, ‘it’s easy, I’ll show you.’ Neyla could feel the anxiety building within her as the raccoon pulled her to the centre of the room.

Sly spun to face her, positioning her slightly to his right as he rested his hand on her lower back, holding her right in his left before lifting her left to his shoulder, ‘Do you know how to dance at all or-’

‘It’s not that I don’t know,’ she interjected, blushing slightly as she looked away, ‘it’s just that I’m not the greatest when it comes to this kind of setting.’

‘We’re not exactly alone out here Neyla,’ he noted, prompting the tigress to acknowledge all of the couples who had begun to dance, ‘so don’t worry.’ Despite her nerves, Neyla looked to the raccoon and smiled, straightening her back as he pulled her slightly closer.

‘Now, just follow my instructions and you’ll be fine,’ he promised, slightly bobbing his head to get a feel for the tempo. Once he was ready, Sly softly called out instruction upon instruction as they began to move, their display increasing in complexity with each lap of the dancefloor, never once stopping. Neyla’s confidence in the art slowly grew, gradually replacing the anxiety that had shaken her for the majority of the evening with a feeling of contentment. Despite her increasingly lax mood, a thought rung through her mind as she laid eyes on Carmelita, who had cut off her conversation to watch their dance.

‘Are you doing this just to get at Old Ironsides?’ she asked as they concluded their third lap of the dancefloor, spinning around Cooper as they restarted their routine.

Sly, who had fallen silent upon deciding his instructions were no longer necessary, sheepishly looked away, ‘Uh, yes I am,’ he confirmed, his confidence seeming to wane somewhat, ‘sorry if that offended you.’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ the tigress quickly replied, hoping to reassure her dance partner, ‘I mean, you won’t be getting those wings with her on patrol,’ Sly laughed slightly before turning his focus back to the dance, falling silent once more. Neyla, by comparison, was not so easily focused, her mind was attempting to stamp out the spark of envy that had begun to flicker at the back of her mind, but no matter what she did, no matter how much she attempted to remind herself that, to Sly, getting at Carmelita was just a job, the spark would not extinguish.

Neyla let out a slight yelp as Sly dipped her to signify the end of the dance, her heart partially racing from excitement, though primarily from the energy she had exhausted. Sly lifted the tigress back up to her feet, paying no mind to the crowd that slowly stepped off the dancefloor as he raised her hand to his lips, lightly kissing it. Neyla blushed as her anxiety returned, desperately avoiding his eye-contact so as to prevent him from noticing, ‘Uh, t-thank you,’ she stammered, forcing her blood pressure back into her control as she looked to him, ‘that was delightful.’

‘Oh no, thank you Neyla,’ Sly replied, taking her arm as he walked over to the bar, ‘after all, it takes two to tango.’

‘Yes,’ Neyla’s eyes darted over to Carmelita, who was sitting at the bar, watching with a raised eyebrow, ‘and three is always a crowd.’ Sly’s attention altered to Carmelita as the two came to a halt, allowing them to inspect the menu.

‘Your friend here is quite an accomplished dancer,’ Carmelita noted, rising from her chair to speak with the pair.

‘I mean, of course,’ the tigress retorted before ordering a drink from the bartender, ‘I tried to make him look good.’

Carmelita lightly snorted, ‘Don’t flatter yourself Neyla,’ she laughed, ‘his skills far surpass yours.’

‘Now, now Miss,’ Sly interjected, addressing Carmelita in the hopes of stopping the aggression from rising beyond passive, ‘Neyla was more than a suitable partner, and I would never want anyone to say I’m better than her, because that’s far from true.’ Neyla looked down at the counter to hide her reddening face as a glass of ginger beer was set before her, which she gladly took before looking away to resume her inspection of the room. Looking past the bison mid-conversation with Lord Rajan, and the crowd of people who had begun another dance, Neyla looked to one of the balconies overhead, laying eyes on a parrot resting within a mechanical birdcage. A moment passed in which the two stared at one another, and Neyla sighed, taking a sip of her drink as she began across the room.

‘It was nice seeing you,’ she called back to Sly, looking back only slightly as she progressed to the stairs, beginning her ascension, all under the piercing gaze of the yellow and green parrot.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the tigress made a hard right as she approached the balcony, upon which she found the parrot, who had neglected to turn to face her. ‘It truly warms my heart to see you so comfortable Neyla,’ the parrot noted in his sophisticated, yet arrogant, tone, ‘I know not the last I saw you so relaxed.’

‘So now you’re spying on me,’ the tigress retorted before ingesting a quarter of the remaining liquid in her glass, ‘can’t I ever just have a night to myself Arpeggio?’

The mechanisms of the birdcage wheezed with effort as the device pivoted, enabling the occupant to look upon the tigress, ‘You are here on a mission my dear,’ he commented, ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t be keeping an eye on you; should I let you out of my sight, you might get ideas.’

Neyla growled, slowly reaching for the whip that could be found at her waist, only to silently scold herself upon realising she had failed to bring her only weapon, thereby leaving herself completely defenceless against her mentor, ‘I’m not your pet Arpeggio,’ she snapped, ‘you don’t need to treat me like one.’

Arpeggio heartily laughed at the response, ‘My, my, aren’t we feeling rebellious this evening?’ he questioned as his gaze drifted off to the side, ‘would you be a dear and take care of that for me?’

Neyla registered the sound of several soft, spindly, footsteps directly behind her. Before the tigress could react, two vicious claws latched onto her arms and spun her around, exposing her to a vibrant mixture of colour. She heard the sound of glass shattering at her feet as she futilely attempted to break free of the spider’s grip, the colours blinding her to anything outside of the empty eyes before her. The agonising process continued for a matter of seconds before suddenly cutting out, leaving Neyla with nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally posted on Fanfiction.net, but is currently in the process of being rewritten over there. This site is only getting the updated version, so if you wanna find out what happens early go check it out there.


	2. Trapped

** Set before and during Sly 2, Episode 4 **

Images flickered before Neyla’s eyes, unfocused and jittery, akin to an untuned television display. Much of what flashed before her was lost to the unforgiving void of her subconscious as a sharp blade of cold pierced her clothing, pulling her back to reality.

The first thing she noticed upon her awakening was the cold, metal surface on which she lay, putting her hairs on end as she wiped away the sleep that sealed her eyes shut.

Fighting off the disorientation that plagued her mind as she blinked away the last traces of sleep, Neyla’s blurred vision refocused to unveil an unidentifiable, yet somewhat familiar setting.

The tigress was sitting in the centre of a sparse, metallic room, no recognizable doors or windows. The assortment of wooden crates in the corner suggesting a cargo hold of some description. The air was still, untouched by any form of wind current, a detail at odds with what appeared to be the sound of propellers penetrating the metal surfaces.

Neyla’s eyes widened as her mind processed this, acting as a motivator to push away the disorientation that plagued her sleep-addled thoughts. _A sparse, metallic, cargo hold, a lack of doors or windows, still air despite the sound of propellers outside._

Airship. Neyla was aboard Arpeggio’s airship.

Breath quickened to match heightened heart rate, hand instinctively reached for waist, only to be increasingly panicked by the weapon’s absence. Eyes darted across the room in search of something, anything, that could help the tigress escape.

Nothing. Not even the slightest indication of a door.

She was trapped.

Neyla pushed off the cold floor as she sprinted towards the nearest wall, pounding against the metal with desperate fury. ‘Let me out, runt!’ she screamed, her voice quivering from underuse and dehydration. ‘Let me out!’

No response.

Despite the feeling of dread that accompanied the stinging of her eyes, the tigress persisted, banging against the wall and screaming herself hoarse. As the minutes passed, however, the force behind her efforts declined. The impact of her fist turned from a heavy pounding to a light tap, matching her voice’s decline in tone, slowly shifting to a light whimper.

Her bruised fists pressed against the metal surface, Neyla, barely holding back the moisture behind her eyes, rested her forehead against the wall as she slid to the floor, a faint ‘Please let me out’ escaping her lips as her back pressed against the wall, wrapping her arms around her legs before curling into a ball, hiding her sobbing expression from prying eyes.

Even as panic and dread addled her mind, tears staining the fabric of her hijab, a single question persisted, despite the distractions. A question that heightened her focus and terror simultaneously:

_What had she done to deserve coming here?_

In all the years she had served Arpeggio, he had only brought her to this cell twice during one of her “episodes”, as he had so sadistically phrased it, neither of which were situations to be taken lightly. Whatever she had done had clearly put her back on Arpeggio’s bad side, and she wouldn’t be able to properly confront him without the full story.

Determined, she lifted her head and rested it against the wall, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before closing them in an attempt at remembrance.

Much like the earlier display, a slideshow of images flickered through Neyla’s memory as she searched for answers. A temple. A cave – a raccoon.

Within the instant of laying eyes on the figure, a wave of memories came rushing back, submerging the tigress as familiar events engulfed her vision.

  


_______________

 

She had been watching from a distance, observing the trio as the seemingly random details of the turtle’s plan began to connect. If her theory was correct, she would have to make an effort to flee the area long before said plan came to fruition.

Sitting atop one of the towering trees at the edge of the temple grounds, concealed by dense foliage, she watched as Sly skulked through the shadows, avoiding the wandering gaze of Rajan’s guards, occasionally plucking a coin pouch from a belt.

Having spent the previous day analysing the movements of the Cooper Gang, she suspected they were, at the very least, aware of the whereabouts of the Clockwerk Heart, though lacked any feasible method of gaining access to the inner chamber of the temple to recover it.

‘Rajan has disappointed me one time too many,’ Arpeggio had explained the previous day. ‘Take a force to gather any leftover spice in the temple, then ensure Cooper recovers the Heart.’

She pulled a sheet of blueprints from her pants, unfurling it to examine the map Arpeggio had given her. Without guidance Neyla would have been little help to Cooper in infiltrating the temple, but previous visits had allowed Arpeggio to construct a map of the secret passageways the paranoid Rajan had implemented.

Laying the map across a nearby branch, so as to establish a comfortable correlation between it and the layout of the temple, her forefinger came to a rest over a circled entryway. Assessing the view of the temple, the tigress’ eyes focused on one of the more elevated sections of the construct, hidden under the shadow of an overgrown tree trunk. A satisfied smile crept onto Neyla’s face as she stashed away the blueprints, her fingers curling around the whip at her side.

Diving from the tree, the tigress scanned her surroundings, her gaze latching onto a solitary, yet secure looking, tree branch that her weapon had wrapped around half a second later, sending the falling figure into a smooth arc.

Manoeuvring her lower body to avoid contact with the environment, Neyla flicked her wrist as she started to ascend, relieving the branch from the grip of her weapon, and allowing her extended control of her movement.

Conducting a short scan of her immediate area, Neyla adjusted her course to land on a walkway overlooking a small pool, entering a roll as she hit the ground to absorb the impact.

Pausing momentarily to ensure she hadn’t been seen, the tigress slid across the walkway, swiftly approaching the supposed entrance.

Upon initial inspection, the entry seemed little more than a mildly dilapidated temple wall, a detail the tigress quickly cast aside by reminding herself the entrance was classified as a secret. Running her hands across the brickwork, she found an admiration for the temple’s original creators. Not many ancient constructs were in nearly as good a condition as this one, and she didn’t have Rajan to thank for that; if anything, the temple must have fallen into greater disrepair after he moved in.

 Her hands stopped when two of her fingers caught a small gap between two large bricks, the lower moving slightly in response to the pressure.

Securing her grip on the stone, she gently pushed down, watching with delight as a small boulder to her left slid behind one of the towering tree’s oversized roots, unveiling a darkened passage.

After a quick scan to ensure her continued anonymity, she pulled the stone up, returning it to its original position, thereby prompting the boulder to do the same. With the entrance in its original state, the tigress turned and crossed the platform to its edge, looking out over the grounds.

Despite the overcast beginnings of a storm further darkening the torch lit temple, Neyla’s naturally enhanced vision found little difficulty spotting the blue clad raccoon shoving an attacking guard into the violent currents of a river that cut through the temple grounds.

The sight gave Neyla pause as a spark of nervousness sputtered at the back of her mind. She hadn’t seen Sly since the incident at Rajan’s palace around a week earlier, nor had they talked since their dance; as a result, she wasn’t particularly sure how to approach. _Or maybe she didn’t have to._ She could just leave a tip at their hideout telling them about the entrance’s location…

The tigress caught herself before those thoughts continued, taking a shaky breath before closing her eyes. ‘No,’ she muttered, rubbing her eyelids, ‘I can’t put this off.’

With a slow intake of breath, Neyla opened her eyes and jumped from the landing, crossing the lower platform and approaching Cooper, who hadn’t moved from the spot she had initially seen him at, as if he were mourning the guard’s untimely demise. Suppressing the nervous spark, the tigress forced herself to approach, dropping from her vantage point.

Sly was, evidentially, surprised by the tigress’ sudden appearance. ‘We meet again, Cooper,’ Neyla began, instating her confident façade.

‘Constable Neyla,’ Sly replied, near instantly regaining his composure, ‘How nice to see you.’ The raccoon paused, momentarily looking off to the side, ‘Thanks for not ratting me out back at the palace,’ he finally stated.

Neyla scoffed, ‘I should be thanking you,’ she countered. ‘The look on Carmelita’s face was priceless,’ a small smile crept onto her features as she looked slightly to Sly’s right, so as to avoid direct eye contact.

‘She took it hard, did she?’ he inquired, looking directly into her eyes. Though the contact lasted little more than a second, Neyla registered the purpose behind the raccoon’s eyes; the thief was ensuring he hadn’t hurt her feelings, wasn’t he?

A slight warmth reached Neyla’s cheeks as she looked away, her hijab partially concealing her expression from Cooper. ‘No one likes having their affections played with,’ she noted quietly, resisting the urge to jump into the river.

Sly fell silent, though the tigress could feel his gaze resting upon her, forcing her to look back at him. ‘No witty remark?’ she questioned jokingly, refusing to look into his eyes.

Sly took a short breath, ‘So, the gang and I took a short trip to Bollywood after the whole palace thing,’ he explained finally, ‘though, there was quite a lot I couldn’t really do with them without it seeming weird.

‘When we’re done hunting the still beating heart of an ancient mechanical hate-filled owl, why don’t we hit the town? Maybe give that dancing thing another go?’ Once again, Neyla’s hijab hid her warming face as she looked away, a goofy smile threatening to conquer her features.

‘I-I’ll keep it in mind,’ she answered, trying to avoid sounding ecstatic by the concept. ‘First, I’ve learned of a secret entrance into this temple that I believe will get you to the Heart. Now as you know, I can’t legally enter the premises without a warrant-’

‘But a thief like me can go wherever he pleases,’ Sly interjected, completing her thought, ‘just like Paris.’

‘Yeah,’ Neyla agreed, turning away. ‘Just like Paris.’

 

_______________

  


With one phrase, Neyla was back in the cell, her eyes dry, and a newfound sense of understanding prevalent. The events following this encounter were hazy, but some details were clear.

She had playfully led the raccoon through the complex, reminiscing on their first real encounter at Dimitri’s nightclub before arriving at the secret entrance. She managed to hold off her response to Sly’s proposal until the end, agreeing to meet him after Rajan had been defeated; she remembered returning to a cave half a mile away from the temple, her temporary base…

Then nothing.

She couldn’t remember anything after returning to the cave, let alone what she could have done to anger her captor.

The tigress sighed as she rose to her feet, despite the slight weakness in her legs, and began to pace the metallic room. She’d always found movement to be the best way to clear her thoughts.

Though she lacked any sufficient knowledge as to what happened after the end of her memories, she couldn’t shake a feeling that had manifested during her remembrance:

_Where was Sly in all this?_

She knew she’d agreed to the date, if he had finished the job while she was away would he be looking for her? Was he worried? Most importantly, was he safe?

The tigress looked around the room, disappointed to see no miraculous escape route had manifested while she was resting. Apparently she’d have to go without answers for a while.

  


_______________ 

  


Arpeggio inspected the monitors as surveillance cameras scanned the prison, his head resting on his wing. He still failed to understand why the Contessa had summoned him, despite knowing that his time was too valuable to be wasted.

Apparently, she felt her prison’s security was possibly lacking, and feared the hippo and raccoon could escape. As a result, he’d forced himself to inspect the entire prison no less than three times, and still saw no potential flaw in the security.

‘It is unlike you to doubt your own handiwork, my dear Contessa,’ he commented, turning his mechanical contraption to face the spider, who was currently hanging from the ceiling, intently analysing the contents of a small, brown, book. ‘Has something unsettled you, perchance?’

The Contessa looked down at the parrot, her empty red eyes narrowing as she dropped the book onto her desk in the corner. ‘For someone so intelligent you don’t do much research, do you Arpeggio?’ she snarled, scuttling down the wall to stand before him.

‘I don’t take kindly to threats, my dear,’ Arpeggio retorted icily, his formal tone hiding a layer of annoyance, ‘I suggest you rephrase that comment.’

Though her angered expression remained, the Contessa instinctively took a couple steps back, her red eyes still boring into his own. ‘I’m saying that your sorry excuse for an enforcer failed her one, simple, job,’ she stated, her tone slightly refrained. ‘My files on the Cooper Gang explicitly state that there is a member other than the hippo and Cooper himself: a turtle referred to as Bentley.’

Arpeggio raised an eyebrow at the spider’s explanation, ‘And this warranted my visit to the prison?’ he questioned, an incredulous undertone slipping into his level voice.

A nigh-inaudible growl sounded from the Contessa as her eyes narrowed, ‘All of Inspector Fox’s reports state that Cooper had an offsite assistant during the Fiendish Five situations,’ she explained matter-of-factly, ‘and that this same assistant saved Cooper from a death trap orchestrated by Clockwerk.’

Arpeggio shook his head in disappointment, as his contraption started past the Contessa, ‘It saddens me to see you reduced to such a paranoid state, my dear Contessa,’ he chided. ‘This “Bentley” will not be a problem; you will merely focus on breaking the minds of Cooper and the hippo.’

The parrot waited for no response as he departed the building, his vehicle’s steady, yet slow, approach towards the prison entrance granting him a moment to think.

He had agreed to let the Cooper Gang be captured to resecure Neyla and the Contessa’s standings with Interpol, though his plan had been momentarily halted as a result. The turtle’s potential assault on the prison granted him a rare opportunity.

If this “Bentley” failed, the entirety of the Cooper Gang would be imprisoned, and no longer capable of interfering with his plans. On the other hand, if he succeeded and freed Cooper, that same plan could potentially be hastened.

Arpeggio looked across the compound to Cooper’s current location, a sardonic smile creeping onto his face.

Yes. The events to come would be very interesting indeed.

 

_______________

  


The first thing that had come to Sly’s mind was the pain, as if twenty different wrestlers had simultaneously hit him with sledgehammers. Next, the damp surface he was lying in, soaking the front of his clothes as heavy raindrops dampened his back.

Stubbornly ignoring the pain, the raccoon’s attempts to lift himself off the ground were rendered futile as he collapsed from exhaustion. It was only after hearing a familiar voice that he made an effort to lift himself off the ground to inspect the scene playing out before him.

Rajan was lying on his back at the centre of the temple’s drained pool, an exhausted expression on his face as he looked up at the imposing hippo bearing down on him. The remaining half of the Clockwerk Heart was still attached to the tiger’s staff, a few metres to his left.

‘Let this be a lesson to you,’ Murray yelled victoriously, his gloved hands grasping the tiger’s ankles, slowly starting to spin, ‘Nothing can stop the unstoppable force of righteousness that is The Murray!’ The tiger was yelping in protest as Murray spun him around several times, each lap faster than the last, only to be silenced upon his violent impact with the nearby stone wall, branches of cracks snaking around him before he fell back to the ground, any remaining semblance of consciousness eliminated.

Sly lightly laughed at the display, clutching his side to inspect what seemed to be a broken rib. Murray, who had quickly collected the Heart from Rajan’s staff, looked across at the miserable form of the raccoon as an overjoyed smile burst onto his face.

‘You’re okay!’ he cheered, rushing across the pool to wrap his friend in a hug, lifting him a foot off the ground. Sly winced at the painful display of affection; if that rib wasn’t broken before, it most certainly was now.

‘Cr-crushing… ribs,’ he managed, futilely smacking his hands against the hippo’s bulbous gut. With an apologetic yelp, Murray released his grip on Sly, setting him back on the ground.

‘S-sorry bud,’ he said, looking away sheepishly. Sly moved to speak when his friend looked back to him, his hands resting on his hips in a heroic pose, ‘But I got Rajan!’

Sly laughed, ‘Yeah, I saw,’ he replied, ‘nice takeout by the way.’ Murray grinned dopily down at the raccoon as he joined in with the laughter.

The jovial respite was shattered by a voice, ‘Yes, very nice.’ Sly’s eyes widened as he looked up to the edge of the pool, a mixture of excitement and annoyance filling him as his gaze rested on Neyla.

‘There you are,’ he called, hand still clutching his side. His mind was still hazy from the injuries he’d sustained, but the raccoon vividly remembered how she had abandoned him moments before Rajan had attacked, ‘You wanna explain why you bailed on me like that?’

Neyla shrugged as she looked over her shoulder, conversing with someone shielded from Sly’s view. She nodded before looking back to the injured pair, ‘Nothing personal,’ she retorted, her features adorned with a neutral stance, ‘neither is this.’

An orchestra of arming weapons filled the area as the pool was lined with over a dozen guards or policemen, Sly couldn’t tell which. What he could tell was that two other figures had joined Neyla as she looked down at the pair. One Sly recognised as the Contessa, someone he had encountered at Rajan’s ball, the other…

‘Carmelita?’ The raccoon shouted in surprise, an emotion intensified by the sight of a crossbow trained on the fox. ‘What’s going on?’ The glare he received in response could be described as nothing other than venomous.

‘What’s going on is that you’re under arrest,’ she spat, her glare turning to challenge the amused smile that had crept onto Neyla’s face, ‘and I’m going with you thanks to your little stunt back at the ball.’

Sly felt his jaw partially drop as he looked up at Neyla, who had turned back to him. ‘The former inspector there hit it right on the mark,’ she confirmed, the smile more pronounced. ‘Sly Cooper, you’re under arrest.’

The bewilderment that rushed through the raccoon was stemmed by the sound of nervous swallowing. Looking over to Murray, Sly was concerned to see the hippo breathing heavily with worry. Placing a hand on the hippo’s shoulder, prompting him to look down at him, Sly smiled reassuringly. ‘We’ll be fine, big guy,’ he insisted as he raised his hands, ‘I promise.’

The effort behind Murray’s movements was obvious, but he made no display of resistance as he too raised his hands. Sly stared at Neyla as she escorted her newfound captives out of the jungle, the confusion filling his every thought, even after he was shoved into the back of the van.

 

_______________

  


Sly had nothing to do but think as he sat in silence, enveloped in the darkness of “The Hole.” Due to the overcast weather of Prague He had no way of tracking the days, even before he was forced into the unique solitary confinement cell, but had suspected he had spent around a week in the prison, or “rehabilitation centre” as the staff dubbed it.

Sly knew better though; he had heard the whispers and rumours of the eventual fate of all the facility’s guests, how the Contessa “cured them.” This place wasn’t a prison, or a rehabilitation centre, it was nothing short of a nightmarish torture facility. He was positive his paranoid mind had been playing tricks on him, but the raccoon could have sworn he had heard screaming coming from the lower levels, before he was put in what seemed to be a literal hole in the ground; a perfect example of the Contessa’s sadistic treatment, there was barely any room to move.

The walk to this “privileged” treatment was Sly’s only opportunity to truly analyse the facility’s security, possibly establish an escape plan. It took almost no effort to see there was little hope in a jailbreak orchestrated from inside.

Putting aside the apparent lack of vulnerabilities in the structure, he had noticed the guards patrolling the wall were all equipped with peculiar devices, motion sensors no doubt. It was almost as if the Contessa had ordered the devices to be put on display to discourage escape. While he could understand the logic, that fact alone made escape all but impossible.

To add insult to injury, he hadn’t seen his cane anywhere during his escort out of the jungle. In fact, most of his equipment had been confiscated. As a result, even if he could escape his current scenario without being immediately filled with bullets, it was doubtful he would be able to get far without his cane, let alone find Murray and Carmelita to break them out as well, making him realise just how dependant he was on the heirloom.

It was lucky Neyla had overlooked Bentley when she captured them, an outside perspective would almost certainly make escape easier, and if there was anyone who could do it, it was Bentley.

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of explosions and gunfire. Though remaining optimistic, he didn’t hold his breath for an opening, it was probably just some poor, desperate, soul foolishly attempting to escape.

His thoughts drifted as he considered his captor. It was strange, though he had only encountered the tigress a few times beforehand, there was something different about the way she was behaving. From the earlier encounters, he had surmised that Neyla was a caring and playful, if slightly nervous, ally, completely at odds with the cold and proud tigress who had arrested them. True, it was possible she was merely acting, but their earlier encounters held a sense of sincerity and authenticity that was all but impossible to comfortably replicate. Or maybe she was just a very talented actress.

For the second time in minutes Sly was startled from his thoughts by a cacophony of sound from outside the Hole, only this time the source seemed closer. Yet again, he took a bated breath and waited, hoping his optimism would pay off.

Minutes seemed to pass, and his optimism dwindled, when the cell entrance emanated a mixture of clicks and hisses. Reaching forward, he pressed against the door, and his heart skipped a few beats as it effortlessly swung open.

Pausing momentarily to ensure he was safe to move, which was difficult due to the deafening sirens, the raccoon made his move, scrambling out of the Hole.

The first thing he noticed was the abundance of rubble strewn across the ground, seeming to originate from the wall. Turning to inspect it, he was taken aback to see a train, around four metres in height and two metres in width, which had somehow gotten stuck halfway through. Looking up to check on the guards that had been stationed atop the wall, he was surprised to see the previously bustling stations were now empty.

The peculiar situation rendering him temporarily immobile, Sly was, again, startled when something long and roughly hook shaped landed a few feet in front of him, nearly causing him to trip over a large chunk of rubble as he stepped back. Upon proper inspection, he was overjoyed to see that his cane was standing before him, a torn sheet of paper tied to the handle.

Reacquainting himself with the weapon, he pulled the paper loose and inspected the message: _“Get moving, no time to explain!” – Bentley_ , followed by directions to a house on the shore.

‘Bentley, you mad genius,’ he laughed, leaping onto the roof of the Hole before jumping towards the train. Hooking his cane onto the top of the vehicle, he heaved himself onto the roof and ducked through the sizeable hole that had been created.

Taking a solitary deep breath of fresh air, he flashed a grin over his shoulder to the rapidly approaching guards, scanned the surrounding neighbourhood to establish a bearing, and jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spending time with characters who aren't Neyla. Gotta love flashback shenanigans.


	3. Collision Course

** Set before Sly 2, Episode 5 **

Despite outward appearances, he wasn't particularly focused on the half dozen holographic monitors before him. Each was tuned to a different news station covering the same event; some focused on a reporter, some on the single sample of live footage, all with the same headline: Panic on the Streets of Prague.

His eyes were glazed, lids half closed as he collected his thoughts, the cacophony of news feeds fading into white noise. Having listened to the story on loop for the past hour, he needed little reminder of the disaster that had unfolded.

Nineteen hours ago, a rescue attempt was conducted by a sole individual, an individual who lacked any physical description. Despite the prison's legendary reputation as an inescapable fortress, the individual had succeeded in liberating the world renowned thief Sly Cooper, as well as one of his associates, humiliating the warden in the process. The Contessa had fled the scene on her private blimp, the Cooper Gang in close pursuit, and did nothing to stop the mass hysteria that filled the city as a swarm of murderers, psychopaths and other criminals charged onto the streets. Interpol had been called in to quell the riots almost immediately after the chaos had ensued, but had only managed to clear the streets after seventeen hours of what could only be described as complete pandemonium. By the time the city had been restored to some semblance of peace, twenty-three innocent lives had been lost, with the total number of injuries somewhere in the hundreds. Some reporters suspected it would take months for the original calm of the city to be restored.

But the lingering unease that plagued the streets of Prague was of no interest to Arpeggio. He sat in silence, contemplating the lesser covered aspect of the event. During the chaos, several witnesses reported hearing prisoners screaming about the tortures the Contessa had subjected them to in her "house of horrors", as one inmate had phrased it.

A curious reporter did some investigating, and quickly discovered the truth behind the Contessa's carefully constructed mirage: that her rehabilitation centre was a cover for her to conduct hypnotic experiments on the wicked; that she had been manipulating Interpol even before she was recruited into their ranks some three years earlier; that she was, in truth, a secret member of the Klaww Gang.

Following this unfortunate revelation, Interpol had entered crisis mode, disavowing the fugitive and calling for her immediate arrest. When no response was given, a country-wide manhunt ensued, with officers scouring every corner of the Czech Republic for the Contessa's hideaway. Arpeggio found repeated amusement in the fact they never considered the most obvious answer: that she had retreated to her castle estate on the edge of the city. There had been reports that there was an increase of apparent mercenary activity in the area, but Interpol, in their arrogance, had ignored them.

Not that it provided him any comfort.

The Contessa was at her most useful when no one was aware of her true activities, the cover of the rehabilitation centre allowed for a perfect site to experiment with her hypnotic powers. Now that her connection to the Klaww Gang had been exposed, with the added trouble of Interpol tracking her, she was all but useless.

But a useless asset can still bring trouble if they have something you need. Arpeggio had had the officers charged with repossessing the Contessa's equipment bugged. Through a severe case of misfortune, the only item that wasn't accounted for was the one thing Arpeggio needed: the Clockwerk Eyes. Apparently the Contessa hadn't been in such a hurry to forget the artefacts, now they were likely locked deep within the walls of her castle, with their current owner too paranoid to allow anyone she didn't trust in; so Arpeggio had no chance. She knew all too well how he operated and if she suspected he saw no further use in her, she would do everything in her power to keep him away.

For the first time since the Clockwerk parts had been stolen, he was unsure of what to do. If it were any of the other pieces he would have simply left them to the Cooper Gang and recovered them later, but he needed the Eyes in order to continue his own studies into hypnotism, meaning he needed them back immediately.

'Boss?' the unrefined voice penetrated Arpeggio's thoughts, pulling him back into reality. He rubbed his forehead, becoming aware of the headache he had given himself after an hour of intense brainstorming, before using his free wing to dismiss the screens and open the birdcage. A tall, lanky toucan stood off to the side, on the edge of the parrot's peripheral vision, the shoulder cannon he had designed twitching as the targeting A.I. repeatedly scanned the room for intruders. 'Uh, something seems wrong with the prisoner,' his employee continued when he didn't respond. 'Seems bad… what should we do?'

Arpeggio didn't respond immediately, he was barely listening, instead looking towards the horizon. It was early; he had been awake for the best part of twenty-four hours, contemplating the chaos of the Contessa's failure. The first golden rays of sunlight crept over the floor of cloud that had been knitted beneath the blimp, mixing with the deep blue of the night sky to form a thin line of purple and orange on the horizon, the faint glimmer of stars rushing to escape the blazing orb that sought to reclaim the blue. It was small and insignificant, barely a speck in comparison to the colour pallet the sky had come to form. The sheer beauty a reminder of his meek and pathetic body, and of the twisted reality that moved beneath the cloud layer, a reality he sought never to walk amongst again.

Letting out a soft sigh as he momentarily closed his eyes, he turned his head to look at the toucan, waiting politely for his employer's order. 'I predict she's making the situation appear worse than it actually is,' he commented, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice. 'Deliver her meal, as per usual and leave her be. I'll deal with her when I deem it necessary.' The toucan bowed deeply before turning and walking out of sight, leaving the mastermind to his silence, his thoughts on the guest, rather than the failure. Nevertheless intrigued by her ploy, he tapped a set of keys on the left of his contraption, bringing up an image of Neyla on a holographic screen.

A week had passed since Neyla's awakening, and with the exception of her initial panicked escape attempt, she had been unexpectedly compliant, seeming to retreat inward to preserve what little energy she had. She didn't appear to sleep, merely sat against the far wall with her eyes closed, an impressive feat considering she had been awake for seven days. But he knew, behind this calm façade, that she remained her usual, anxious self, and likely chose to remain awake to ensure he couldn't hurt her anymore; not that going without sleep for so long was a smart plan.

Now, however, she lay in the room's centre, her body unceremoniously spread in a sleeping position, her face pressed against the floor; her dark hair was a mess beneath her hijab, stretching away from her head as though an electrical current had passed through it. The parrot considered two options: either she was pretending in a foolhardy escape attempt, or she truly had fallen asleep from her prolonged consciousness. The latter seemed to be the more accurate assumption; though she hadn't spent much time on the blimp over the years, she knew well enough that escape was not an option, it was foolish to even consider it. Besides, she must have known he still needed her, sooner or later he would need to use her to recover the remaining Clockwerk parts from Cooper and his team, so she still had a chance to survive her current predicament.

He shook his head in bewilderment. After all this time, he still failed to understand how his protégé's mind truly functioned, and it appeared as if he would never truly know.

Not that it truly mattered. Soon, nothing from his current life would matter to him.

Nevertheless, he still had steps to take to reach that goal, which meant that, for the time being, the tigress would serve him.

Whether she wanted to, or not.

\--------------

She knew it was a mistake, a foolish act of rebellion and self-preservation. She gave herself the excuse that she had no way to track the days, but such a meagre statement did little to justify her ignorance of the incredible exhaustion that had slowly eroded the corners of her mind.

She didn't even remember falling asleep. She rose from her position against the wall to stretch her legs, then found herself pacing a shallow cave, the fresh scent of the jungle invigorating her addled mind as a newly ignited fire crackled in the far corner, casting a display of dancing shadows onto the rough stone walls.

A sudden impact of water stunned her from her thoughtless pacing, prompting a panicked scan of her hideaway; she mentally kicked herself upon realising she had walked to the mouth of the cave, leaving her exposed to the elements long enough to be hit in the face by a large raindrop. Stepping back into the cave, she collected her hijab, using its silken edges to wipe the water from her face. Blinking away the last of the liquid from her eyes, she wrapped the garment around her head once more, slinking over to the fire to set a large pot of water onto the makeshift grill she had put together.

Minutes passed, though they felt like seconds, before the licking flames brought the water to boil; she pulled a small packet from her knapsack, tipping its contents into the bubbling water before fitting the metal lid over the mouth of the pot.

Her focus dropping from the meal, she leant back onto her hands, only for her ears to prick in response to an unexpected sound; a soft, sweet melody had trickled into the cave, putting the tigress' hairs on end. Casually, she reached for her whip as she rose into a sitting position. As she lifted herself to her feet, she heard yet another unwelcome sound, almost like… wheels?

Groggily, Neyla's eyes fluttered open; her face was pressed against a cold, metal surface, much like when she first awoke in the cell, her hair splayed in all directions around her in a tangled mess. Though overwhelmed by her exhausted mind, she slowly returned to her senses, remembering her predicament as she lifted herself to her feet.

She was only on her knees when her head began to throb, providing little more than a second to put her hands out to catch herself before she hit the floor. Her breathing laboured and heavy, she pressed one hand against her forehead as the other shakily supported her weight. She groaned as her eyes gradually opened, showing a blurred display of the cargo hold, prompting her hand to rub the sleep from her eyes.

The room was mostly identical to its visage prior to her rest, with the exception of a small, plastic tray resting on a crate in the corner. Squinting to break through the blurry barrier that had coalesced over her eyes, she was able to identify the food her captor had provided.

'How considerate, Arpeggio,' she went to walk away from the meal, only for her stomach to growl in protest. Instinctively clutching her belly, she groaned as she quickly turned and darted over to the food. On the tray was a freshly baked bagel with a cream cheese spread and several small pieces of smoked salmon sandwiched at its centre; a teapot accompanied by a cup with a small serve of milk; and to round out the small banquet was what looked like half a dozen freshly baked blueberry muffins.

It was obvious her host was trying to win her over with the fancy meal, but she didn't care, she was far too hungry. She wasn't sure how long she had been in the room, but she did know that in all that time the parrot hadn't graced her with so much as a slice of bread. As a result, she'd likely lost a kilogram or two, meaning she took little shame when she tore into the meal.

Given that he had kidnapped her, Arpeggio was very clearly a man who understood the needs of his "guest"; the meal was precisely what Neyla needed to reinvigorate her weakening body, she could almost feel her muscles regaining their strength with every bite.

She was in the process of downing her cup of tea when she paused in thought, taking a moment to consider her dream of a jungle cave. It was real, of that she was certain, the mental prompt had restored her incomplete memories; if the last thing she had heard before awakening was what she thought, then Arpeggio had personally come down from his vantage point to speak with her, which meant that was when she had her last blackout. She set the cup down as she considered the possibilities: he could have been unsatisfied with how she was conducting the India operation; he might have needed her off the board for a time; or it could have been to do with her earlier conversation with Sly.

And then it all made sense.

She and Cooper had steadily grown closer following their first meeting, Arpeggio must have taken notice of that at Rajan's palace. The parrot was not one for petty relationships, he had made that abundantly clear when he tasked her with the job of corralling the Cooper Gang, and he had apparently wanted her to stay focused on the assignment.

He was devoted to maintaining his control over her, so that she might remain his secret weapon. If Neyla's relationship with Sly was giving her rebellious ideas, it could compromise Arpeggio's operation, a risk he could not afford to take. As a result, it was smarter to keep her locked away, somewhere Sly couldn't find her, until he had sorted her out. The revelation was enough motivation for her to put down her food and step away, disregarding her persisting hunger. She would not spend an indefinite amount of time locked in this cell, anxiously awaiting the day her master finally came for her; she would rather starve than continue such an existence.

Behind her, something slid open, inviting a voice into the room, 'Appetite sated, my dear?' Neyla paused in shock before swiftly turning to examine the room; indeed, Arpeggio had invited himself in, the blinding natural light of the setting sun casting a long shadow into the room from his vehicle. 'I am most pleased to see you up and about. We have business to discuss.'

Neyla looked at the parrot, eyebrows furrowed as her mouth hung slightly ajar in disbelief, 'You're kidding me, right?' she demanded. 'Why should I help you? After locking me away in this cell for god knows how long?'

'Seven days, to be precise.'

'Seven days,' she spat, putting little effort into hiding the venom in her voice. 'You want me to keep being your errand girl after locking me up in here for a week? Because I started to develop an interest in Cooper? If that's the case then you've got… another… thing…' Neyla's mind began to stutter. Arpeggio's contraption was emitting a soft, nigh-inaudible melody, identical to the tune she heard in her dream. She could feel her thoughts beginning to slow. Lazily, her eyes locked with Arpeggio's as an arrogant undertone formed in his expression.

'It is not as potent as the Contessa's treatment, but it will unfortunately have to do,' her body began to shake; her hairs stood on end as her knees began to bend, forcing her to the floor. At the top of the parrot's contraption, the bulb of a large floodlight began to warm up, rapidly switching between shades of red, yellow and green. Her eyes became enraptured by the flickering colours, like a bug attracted to a flame.

'I must admit that I did not particularly want to do this,' Neyla could barely hear Arpeggio's voice, it was masked by the wailing of white noise. 'You see, I wanted your last assignment to be the last time I put you under, but you and the Cooper Gang have begun to prove far too stubborn for your own good. As such, I'm merely seeking a method through which to put you in your place.'

Despite the increasing volume of static, Neyla could faintly hear the parrot's explanation. The last time? Then this had happened before; back at the ball, the cave, all those incidents throughout her life in which she mysteriously lost hours, or even days. This had happened before… her episodes weren't blackouts, they were all Arpeggio's doing. This aspect of her life she had simply come to accept as an unfortunate medical condition was yet another part of Arpeggio's scheme.

What else was he hiding from her?

'Now, you mentioned your growing interest in Cooper, did you not? I must admit, I hadn't particularly taken much interest in your private affairs; I visited you in the jungle simply because I wanted you to be more efficient at your job.' Neyla's focus continued to wane as the flashing light continued to increase in brilliance, 'The detail that you and Cooper are close is simply an added bonus, one I'll be sure to exploit upon your awakening, assuming he feels anything for you anymore.'

The tigress continued to fight, to tear her gaze away from the light, to block out the music. But she couldn't, it were as if an invisible hand had grabbed her by the head, forcing her to look into the light. As for Arpeggio's monologuing, she had grown too curious to ignore him; what was that he had said about Sly feeling nothing for her?

'Well, nevertheless, I have no use for you at this time; I am more interested in the other one,' Neyla's mind tried to question this statement but had all but completely shut down. 'Oh well, we'll speak when you wake up… sleep well, my dear; dream of Cooper,' with one sentence, just a few words, Neyla's thoughts caved in, and the invisible hand submerged her in blackened water.

\--------------

The overhead light was extinguished the moment Neyla hit the floor, the melody swiftly following suit. Arpeggio had watched with curiosity as his protégé's eyes reflected the colour of the beams, before rolling into the back of her head as her body crumpled. The device he had implemented into his birdcage, so that he might replicate the Contessa's work, was relatively new, having only used it once before in the jungle, so he still took an interest in how her body reacted to the procedure. It was not dissimilar to how the girl reacted to the Contessa's hypnosis: a rigid posture combined with a fixed gaze, followed by temporary shutdown of all bodily functions. However, it wasn't the procedure itself that fascinated Arpeggio, but the aftereffects.

Patiently, Arpeggio watched Neyla's body, awaiting any semblance of movement. Half a minute of motionless silence passed before the tigress' eyes fluttered open, an aura of disorientation behind their piercing green. He watched as she confusedly looked around the barren metal room, unmoving until she rose from the floor.

Holding her forehead as she rose to her feet, Neyla's back straightened before her eyes latched onto Arpeggio's form, much like a pet that had grown fascinated with her owner's actions. Despite her recently woken mind, her voice held a level of regality and disinterest, greatly dissimilar to the anxiety and paranoia typical of the tigress, 'Last I checked, I was in India. Why am I here?'

Arpeggio maintained an appearance of superiority as he locked eyes with his protégé, 'If you recall, you collapsed after you captured Cooper and his associate,' he explained, 'I brought you back to my ship so that you might recover-'

'That's kind of you, boss,' the tigress interjected, lazily holding her hand up to inspect her claws. 'Please tell me you have a mission for me; I'm dying for some action, and that last job didn't deliver.'

Arpeggio shook his head in amusement, 'Eager as always, my dear; very well.' With the wave of his right wing, an image was projected onto the glass of his contraption, one of the newspaper articles he had been examining earlier pertaining to the "Prague Incident", as the media had since taken to calling it. Neyla curiously moved her hand to her chin, falling silent as she leaned forward to read the text.

Much like the time in the jungle, Arpeggio took a moment to examine the tigress as she studied the article, taking note of a small handful of peculiarities. The hypnotism process was far from perfect, he had come to accept that following the events in India, but it was almost like his device had a completely different effect to the Contessa's power. The Contessa's hypnotism was more greatly refined, whenever she took control of Neyla, the tigress was more or less the same person, she simply carried out her orders without question and forgot about the events afterwards, making the use of the word "blackout" a suitable one. At her core, she was still Neyla while under the Contessa.

When he hypnotised her, on the other hand, she couldn't be more different, he had taken notice at Rajan's temple; gone was the paranoid vigilance of her gaze, replaced by a disinterested scan of the area; her posture was open and strong, transforming her into someone to be feared, a stark contrast to her closed and nervous posture prior to the procedure. Instead of being a cautious and subservient slave, she was a fearless, sarcastic, and intimidating woman. In truth, Arpeggio was mildly concerned he might have made a mistake in attempting to replicate the Contessa's work.

Neyla sneered as she returned to her full height, 'So the Contessa botched everything.'

'Correction: you botched everything when you failed to capture the turtle,' Neyla's glare shot daggers at Arpeggio, but the parrot was unfazed. 'Because of your failure, our operations have been compromised, the Contessa has gone rogue, and the Cooper Gang is free, with the raccoon no longer trusting you.'

Neyla's eyes narrowed, 'And what do you want me to do about it?' she asked quietly.

Arpeggio looked back at his protégé, his glare matching hers, whilst maintaining an air of authority, 'What you are going to do is rectify this problem,' he said, eyes furrowing with frustration as Neyla grew distracted by a loose bit of fabric on her top. 'You are going to go to Prague, recover the Eyes, eliminate the Contessa and eradicate the Cooper Gang, if need be. Do I make myself clear?'

Neyla cut the small thread from her top with her claw. 'Just one question,' she began as she looked back to the parrot, 'do you care how I go about doing this?'

'As long as you get it done, no I do not.' A conniving smile crept onto Neyla's lips as a thought seemed to develop.

'Then I need to make a stop in Paris,' she explained, beginning her walk out of the room. 'I need to speak with Director Barkley.'

Arpeggio's device turned to follow Neyla from the cargo hold, an eyebrow raised, 'What business could you possibly have with the Director of Interpol?' Neyla looked back to Arpeggio, her smile had turned from conniving to wicked, giving her the appearance of a madman.

'I just need to even the playing field.'

\--------------

Arpeggio didn't trust her, of that she couldn't be more certain. She had felt his gaze locked on her even after arriving on the streets of Paris, cautiously watching her every movement. Why he distrusted her, however, she couldn't place.

She might have failed to deliver the entirety of the Cooper Gang to the Contessa, but how was she to know that one turtle would've been enough to crack her security? If anything, that simply proved how incompetent of a prison warden she was. It wasn't like she had purposefully let this "Bentley" go free so that Cooper would be able to escape, that wasn't her style; if she got an order, she carried it out without hesitation, Arpeggio should've known that by now.

Nevertheless, she had a job to do, and she couldn't let her master's suspicions get in the way of her mission.

Director Barkley was easily manipulated; he greatly respected her after bringing Cooper into custody, something Inspector Fox had failed to do for years. He looked relieved when she finally returned to Interpol's headquarters, likely concerned that she hadn't reported in for over a week, a detail she herself was still confused about. She would have to ask Arpeggio about that when she returned to the airship.

When she requested a prominent position in tracking down the Contessa, and that she needed a large sum to complete the task, Barkley was initially dubious, but loosened up upon learning that she had found their target.

'The Contessa is hiding at an "abandoned" castle estate on the edge of the city,' she had explained, maintaining a casual demeanour as she did. 'She's hired a sizeable mercenary force to protect the area, honestly I'm surprised you haven't found her yet. I need the money to even the playing field, bring in our own mercenaries. After all, I can't imagine Interpol would like to stain its reputation by going to war on the streets of Prague, and so soon after the riots as well.'

He had been in the palm of her hand from the moment she gave the location, but it had been her final words that ultimately convinced him to see the situation from her perspective. As a result, she had been offered a grant of €600,000 to do with as she saw fit, an offer she accepted without hesitation.

It took well over a week, and required many a favour to be called in, but it had been worth it. The tigress had recruited a mercenary battalion numbering in the dozens; a small number, but more than enough to match the Contessa's army.

She sat inside one of the many tanks, examining a map of the surrounding neighbourhood as the army continued its journey towards the castle and the war it would bring. The Contessa was foolish to believe she was safe; it had been her actions that had turned the country against her, no matter what Arpeggio claimed, and Neyla was going to use that to make the former warden suffer. Her only hope was that she'd manage to reach her before Cooper, assuming the raccoon was idiotic enough to show his face. A lopsided smile creased her features at the thought; she knew the raccoon was moronic enough to show up, and she would be keeping an eye out for him.

\--------------

Sly's chin rested on his arms, folded on the dashboard, as he drowsily watched Murray tinker with the van's inner workings. Behind him, at the far end of the van, the clacking of fingers hitting keys sounded as Bentley hunched over his laptop, all but unmoving as he scanned the luminescent screen.

None of them wanted to admit it, but the atmosphere surrounding the Gang had changed, even after two weeks of recuperation far away from Prague. After Bentley had gotten Sly out of the Hole, they had set to work breaking back into the facility to find and rescue Murray; overall, the mission was a success, but the aftermath was anything but.

When Bentley had laid out the plan to rescue Murray from solitary confinement, he'd failed to take into account the potential ramifications of forcing the Contessa to flee the facility, thereby leaving it unattended. The celebrations were short lived, as all manner of criminals and psychopaths forced their way out of the prison, swarming the streets of Prague like rats swarming a sewer.

Both Bentley and Murray had wanted to get out of the city, leave the clean-up to Interpol, but Sly had insisted they stay and help; it was their fault the people of Prague were in such danger, they had to at least try.

'What exactly can we do, Sly?' Bentley had demanded as they looked out over the chaos. 'There's far too many of them, we'll just end up getting ourselves killed, and then this whole expedition will have been for nothing.'

'It's not exactly like urban warfare's our strongest position,' Murray added, 'we're thieves, Sly, not soldiers.'

'I know we're not soldiers,' Sly quickly countered, distress over the situation on the streets rapidly escalating, 'but we have to do something. It's our fault this happened, so anything that happens out there is kind of our fault.' He greatly disliked using guilt to manipulate others, but he didn't have a choice; it was important to him that they saved lives that night, and that was exactly what they went on to do.

Now that the fighting was long over, however, Sly began to suspect he had done more harm than good in forcing his friends to go.

On the surface, Bentley appeared the same as ever, not letting the experiences bother him, but Sly could tell it was nothing more than an act, putting on a brave face to keep his friends from worrying. Disregarding the horrors of the riot, the ramshackle plan Bentley had put together was successful, but costly, no doubt he blamed himself for everything that had happened, possibly even including their initial capture. Sly wanted nothing more than to sit next to his friend and reassure him, tell him that none of what had happened was his fault. However, every time he tried to approach him, the raccoon recognised the visage of a man invested in his work, so he decided to let him be.

Murray had constructed a similar façade to hide his true feelings. The Contessa had made him suffer, but it took little effort to regain his original attitude.

Despite this, there was something different in the hippo's behaviour, something both Sly and Bentley had come to recognise. He hid it well, but Murray had grown twitchy and paranoid, seemingly insignificant events prompting a near violent response. Behind the destructive bravado of "The Murray," he was a kind-hearted man, one who had developed a contemptuous attitude when faced with unnecessary violence. And yet, after everything that had happened, that kind soul seemed to have disappeared.

After much speculation, Sly came to a conclusion, one that he knew Bentley shared, even if they hadn't discussed it. When they found Murray deep within the prison compound, he was being exposed to hypnotic waves, forcing him into an agitated state. Due to her world renowned accomplishments as a hypnotist, both Sly and Bentley suspected the Contessa was to blame for their friend's situation, and when they tried to help, he flew into a rage. Sly had managed to quell his friend's mental state, but, deep down, he knew the damage had been done; the riots only sought to further damage his mind.

Sly's right hand clenched in frustration as his mind shifted to the Incident. The things they had seen that night: lunatics running wild; a man's head crushed by a car; a prisoner hanging his friend from the head of a statue; blood and gore everywhere. Civilisation was committing suicide, and they had a front row seat.

And it was Sly's fault they were there.

If he hadn't insisted, if he had just gone along with their wish to leave the city and rest, it might have all been alright; Bentley would have recovered from his guilt, and Murray would be back to his old self. But he had insisted, and he knew it would never be quite the same between the three of them.

And he knew his friends felt the same.

With a loud thud, Sly returned to full consciousness, eyes erratically scanning the van for the source of the sound. Murray was sitting in the driver's seat, anxiously looking out onto the street.

'What is it?' Sly asked, his voice hushed upon seeing Murray acting so cautiously. Without a sound, Murray pointed towards the street, giving Sly enough time to see the rear end of a tank disappear around the corner at the end of the alley.

He had all but forgotten they had returned to Prague.

After a minute of nervous silence, Sly spoke up, 'What is that, the sixth tank we've seen in the last hour?'

Murray corrected him, 'The tenth. Something's about to go down.'

'Yeah, the Czech Republic isn't really known to have tanks casually roaming the streets,' Bentley's voice added from the back of the van.

'Where do you think they're going?'

'They've probably found the Contessa's hideaway,' the turtle was still hunched over his laptop, much like the last time Sly had looked.

'What makes you say that?' Sly inquired as he looked back to the turtle.

'Because they're heading in the direction of a castle estate that I just confirmed belongs to her.'

A proud smile broke onto Sly's face, 'You know where she is?'

Bentley sat up, pausing momentarily to stretch his back before looking to Sly, 'That and something else,' he noted, clamping the computer shut. 'I had one of our contacts over in Canada look into Jean Bison's operation, and my theory was correct: Arpeggio gave him the Lungs, Stomach, and Talons.'

Sly felt an eyebrow rise as he looked at his friend with curiosity, 'But that still leaves the Brain and Eyes unaccounted for, right?' Bentley nodded, 'So does Arpeggio have them?'

Bentley sighed, 'I can't confirm which part he kept for himself, since no one knows where he is,' he explained, looking past Sly and towards the streets of Prague. 'However, remember how I found out the Contessa was a secret member of the Klaww Gang?'

Sly looked away in contemplation; Bentley had mentioned that detail, but he'd all but forgotten amidst all the chaos. Murray was sitting in silence, though actively listening, as he watched the street for any movement. Sly's thoughts shifted to the experiments the Contessa had conducted on the hippo, and everything else they had discovered in the facility's depths.

Sly looked back to Bentley with trepidation, 'You think the Contessa has the Eyes,' he concluded.

'I can't 100% confirm it,' the turtle admitted as he looked away, 'but it's highly likely.'

A sigh escaped Sly's mouth as he returned to a normal sitting position in the seat. Every Clockwerk part was powerful in its own right, each of the organs was a source of tremendous power, for example, but very few could be considered physically dangerous. In the hands of an ordinary being, the Eyes were nothing more than oversized yellow balls; but in the hands of a hypnotist as accomplished and skilled as the Contessa, whose actions had indirectly caused a city-wide riot, they were weapons of destruction. Having seen what the Contessa had done with just her own abilities, Sly didn't even want to consider what she could do with the items amplifying her power.

The van had fallen silent as Sly considered the situation, before reaching into the back and grabbing his cane. 'We have to go,' he said, opening the door and stepping out into the alley.

Murray's voice called after him, 'Hold on; you want us to go, just the three of us, mind you, into a warzone?'

'What choice do we have?' Sly countered. 'Interpol has no idea what they're getting into, and if the Contessa has the Eyes then we need to get them back before things get out of hand.'

'Look, I agree with you Sly,' Bentley insisted as he clambered out of the back of the vehicle, 'but just like last time, we aren't prepared to tackle a situation like this. From what I can understand, Neyla is the one commanding Interpol's army, so we'll be caught between two, equally dangerous, sociopaths who want us all dead.'

Sly looked back at Bentley, frustrated. With a sigh, he spoke, 'I'm sorry I forced you guys to stay during the riots. I understand that none of us walked away unscathed. But, when we found out the Clockwerk Parts had been recovered, we swore an oath to get them back and destroy them. If you want out, fine, but I have to get the Eyes back before the Contessa does any more damage. I just have to.'

Bentley and Murray stared at Sly, he recognised the faces of men mentally weighing their options. Murray spoke first, 'I've wanted payback against the Contessa for what she did to me,' he noted, stepping out of the driver's seat to stand tall. 'Now I find out Neyla's in the area too? How can I say no to an all-you-can-eat vengeance buffet like that?' Sly laughed at the description before turning to Bentley.

The turtle sighed as his head inclined, ever so slightly, 'There's no way I can let you go alone,' he relented. 'I'm with you, until the end.'

Sly smiled, resting his cane on his shoulder, 'Then we'd better get moving,' he declared, 'we have a castle to raid.'

Considering the large contingent of tanks occupying the streets, and the fact that they were on foot, it took a little under two hours to reach the castle. As he guided his allies, Sly was contemplating one of the situation's many factors; Neyla was somewhere in the area, plotting her assault.

Bentley would discourage him from seeking her out, and the raccoon recognised there were more pressing concerns than the woman who had betrayed him.

But despite this, the two of them had business to settle, and sooner or later, they would come face to face once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lot longer than I thought it would. Sorry about that.


	4. Contradictions

** Set during and after Sly 2, Episode 5 **

 

When she hired the mercenaries, her first order was to find and claim a suitable site to act as their base of operations. The search was short lived, evidently, as upon her arrival to the surrounding neighbourhood less than eight hours later, Neyla was presented with an old bank, long abandoned as a result of the Contessa's occupation. The insides had been stripped bare long before Neyla had arrived, leaving a cold, empty stone building, three separate vaults embedded into the far wall.

She had the barrier separating visitors from bankers torn down, setting up a work station in the central vault, dossiers and battle plans of all varieties strewn across the barren shelves that had once held piles upon piles of notes and coins.

The building was, admittedly, unsettling, especially after the Contessa attempted to scare her away with half a dozen wolf ghosts. Sure, the experience gave her a fright, but she wasn't going to run for the hills because of something as measly as that; she had a job to do, and she swore to see it through.

Nevertheless, she had hit a dead end; scouting reports had confirmed the Eyes were locked away with the Contessa in the highest tower of the estate, but nothing she'd tried had managed to get the old hag away from them. The thought of scaring her out with ghosts was tempting, but impractical; not only would it likely fail, due to the Contessa's heightened understanding of the paranormal, but Neyla had no idea how she'd go about doing it.

She growled, thumping her fist on the bench, the resulting echo bouncing off the walls of the vault. She rubbed her forehead, as if trying to wipe away the previous plan.

'Get out…' The whip cracked against the wall, scattering several loose papers as the sound reverberated around the room. Her keen eyes darted around, scanning her immediate surroundings for danger. When it was clear she was alone, she relaxed, coiling her weapon and returning it to her side.

The thought that the Contessa was again trying to frighten her crossed her mind, but she chuckled and brushed it off; the woman wasn't idiotic enough to attempt the same stunt twice.

With her mind temporarily clear, she finally noticed something; a sound - or rather sounds - she probably should've noticed earlier. The muffled sounds of gunfire, explosions and cannon fire seeped through the bank walls… something had happened.

The moment she was out the door, Neyla was met with a display of chaos. Firefights on the streets; tanks rolling across the bridge into the castle; blazing balls of wreckage that were once her fighter planes plummeting into the water. She growled, Neyla had explicitly told the mercenaries that a full scale attack was too risky, and that they were to await her orders. Evidently, someone had disobeyed this simple instruction.

To her immediate left, a mercenary clung to the stone figure of a beast. The rhinoceros, standing half a metre taller than her, pressed against a reddening patch in his gut, looking down at her with a mixture of fear and delirium in his expression. Neyla, by comparison, glared at the mercenary with contemptuous frustration.

'Who gave the order to attack?' she demanded, glaring into his eyes.

The mercenary struggled to breathe, let alone speak, 'Y-you did, didn't ya?' Neyla's eyes narrowed.

'I most certainly did not.'

'T-the defences went d-down, then you told us to attack…t-take advantage o-of the opp-opportunity.' The mercenary had coughed up red spittle, spattering the brickwork at her feet. Neyla paused, holding back a retort as she looked up at the tower where the Contessa was hiding. The hag's blimp was comfortably moored to a balcony that jutted out near the top of the structure, contrary to its intended patrol of the castle perimeter.

A thought occurred: how had the castle's defences been disabled? None of her men had been able to get anywhere near the castle without turning to paste… Maybe…

Reaching for the radio transceiver strapped to her tank top, she tuned to the frequency used by the mercenary pilots. A figure was sitting on the roof of the tower, pale white legs dangling over the side, looking down at her. She stared in confusion, but was all the more bewildered when the figure disappeared within the span of a blink. Realising her finger was pressed against the transceiver, she spoke, 'Everyone still in the air, report; what's going on with the blimp?'

Taking her finger off the button, she waited, looking back to the tower to see the figure had not returned. A woman's voice responded, 'I saw someone paraglide from one of the castle rooftops, jump aboard, beat the snot outta everyone, think I saw some poor sod fly onto one of those spikes on the perimeter. The blimp sidled up to the tower not long after that.'

Neyla's lopsided smile was unsettling, the rhinoceros' reaction all but confirmed this. Cooper.

'All forces continue your current run,' she barked into the device, slipping it back into her pocket.

'H-hold on,' the pathetic voice of the rhinoceros prevented her from dashing off. 'Ain'tcha gonna help me?'

Neyla sneered, 'And why would I do that? Stop yourself from bleeding out until I get back, and I'll consider it.' The mercenary's protests continued to invade her hearing as she dashed away, but she ignored them; she was much more interested in the encounter yet to come.

Despite the catastrophic sounds that echoed throughout the city, the battleground itself was not particularly devastating. Sure, there were mangled corpses strewn across the courtyard, several tanks served as fuel for a handful of raging bonfires and the castle as a whole was a devastated shadow of its former self, but it wasn't the kind of mayhem she had been hoping for. Of course, this wasn't particularly surprising; her ideal battleground was all but impossible to achieve, so she'd been forced to temper her expectations somewhat.

A cursory examination of the castle's layout suggested she would've had to take a considerable detour to reach the tower, had the building's structure not been so severely damaged during the battle. Swerving to avoid a shootout sprawled across the courtyard, Neyla leapt to the top of a well at the centre of the clearing before propelling herself over to the exterior wall of the central building, her grip fastening to the damaged brickwork.

With the castle in such a deteriorated state, it took little effort to clamber up what was once a sheer stone surface, reaching the building's uppermost rooftop in a matter of seconds.

Securing her grip on the edge of the building, Neyla paused when a new, yet familiar, sound echoed from just out of view, seemingly originating near the tower. Peering over the ledge, she was simultaneously satisfied and annoyed to see Carmelita chasing the Contessa down the narrow walkway connecting the tower to the main building. Several balls of electrified energy flew through the air, barely missing the spider's rapidly retreating form, all to the melodious sound of the former inspector slinging a plethora of increasingly horrifying insults at her captor.

Though it was troubling that Carmelita had escaped captivity, there were some marginal benefits to her freedom; keeping the Contessa occupied was one such benefit.

Her focus was drawn away from the display when she saw a figure leaning against the far wall, watching the almost comedic routine with a bemused expression. Her fur was a sickly pale white, and her greying hair was partially hidden from view by her hijab, which shared its colourless nature with the rest of her clothes, all bearing a striking similarity to her own. Only when Carmelita had leapt off the side of the building in pursuit of the Contessa did the white tigress look over to her, watching intently as she lifted herself onto the roof.

Neyla's brow furrowed as the tigress began walking towards her, opening her mouth to speak, when a resounding shockwave reverberated through the castle's structure, throwing the pair off balance. Upon returning to her feet, Neyla was startled to see that the tigress was gone, almost as though she were never there.

Though shaken, she nonetheless disregarded the experience, crediting it to stress as she raced across the walkway and into the tower.

_______________

In the span of a few seconds, the re-education tower's interior was flooded with thick, black, smoke as the bad mojo bomb detonated, the resulting explosion blasting Sly and Bentley into the far wall, and knocking Sly's cane from his hand.

Though disorientated, Sly forced himself back to his feet, coughing to expel a small amount of smoke from his lungs as he struggled to see more than half a metre into the blanketed room.

'You alright, Bentley?' he called into the void, his foot resting atop the unmistakable shape of his cane, prompting a hasty retrieval. Somewhere within the fog, the faint sound of coughing could be heard, though from which direction he wasn't particularly sure.

'That had a larger payload than I predicted,' Bentley's voice was muffled, as though he was attempting to cover his mouth to prevent the unwanted intrusion of additional smoke.

Sly felt a soft smirk crease his features, 'Yeah, let's hope the Contessa has good air conditioning, huh?' he remarked, his hand swatting away the haze clouding his vision. 'You found the Eyes?'

Bentley paused momentarily, granting Sly plenty of time to see the unmistakable glow of one of the monstrosity's orb-like eyes, 'Right here; can you find the other?'

Neyla had been slightly taken aback by the thick cloud of smoke that billowed from the tower door upon its opening, but persevered as she blindly forced her way up a short, spiralling flight of stairs. This perseverance was rewarded, it seemed, when she found a golden orb teetering precariously on the top step. Silently palming the object, she peered into the wall of black smoke, where she could just make out the similar golden glow of the second eye. Based on its position, however, and the direction from which the turtle's voice was originating, it was clear he had already laid claim to the artefact.

'No matter,' she thought, turning to slink away, supposing one eye would be satisfactory for Arpeggio's scheme.

No more than a step had been taken when the familiar form of the white tigress charged out of the shadows, her black and white figure strangely unaffected by the blinding smoke, as she reached for the Eye.

'You can't give Arpeggio the Eye, you know that!' Despite the desperate expression in her features, her shout came out as little more than an echoed whisper; regardless, the sudden appearance was enough to throw Neyla off-balance, forcing her to trip back up the stairs with a yelp.

'Who's there?' Cooper's voice seemed to come from all directions, catching Neyla by surprise.

'Damn it,' she mentally growled as she forced herself to her feet. Her cover blown, she saw no reason not to turn back to the gradually clearing room to throw a mocking glance at Cooper.

'Thanks for clearing out the Contessa, sweetheart; it takes a special kind of terror to drive her away.' She slipped the object into the satchel slung from her shoulder, hoping her grandstanding would distract her opponent; she was disappointed, therefore, to see that Cooper's gaze was fixed firmly on the leather pouch. She let out a mock sigh, 'Are shiny things really that much more important to you than women, lover boy? It's a wonder Carmelita fancies you at all.'

Aggravated by the situation, Sly barely registered Neyla throwing him a slight wave before disappearing down the stairs. With the room clear enough to make out, Sly hurried after the tigress. 'Take the Eye and escape on the blimp,' he called up to Bentley, 'I'll get Neyla.' Sly could hear his companion's protestations as he barrelled towards the tower entrance, but remained focused on his target; he had been looking for an opportunity to corner Neyla for the entire night and would be damned if he missed this chance, especially with the Eye at stake.

Driving her shoulder into the heavy tower door, Neyla stumbled across the narrow walkway as she pressed down on her radio's trigger.

'Attention all bombers,' she yelled into the device, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the pursuing Cooper, 'focus your attack on the Contessa's blimp.' Turning her attention back to her course, she smirked as Cooper's panicked voice yelled a warning into what she assumed was an earpiece, before cracking her whip against a secure-looking spike protruding from a nearby rooftop. With the leather weapon fastened to the structure, the tigress leapt from the landing, allowing her makeshift swing to guide her trajectory.

Looking over her shoulder, an amused grin crept across her features, like a predator enjoying her prey's suffering, as she spotted Cooper somewhat clumsily sliding down the castle's damaged wall, before launching off a lower windowsill to hook his cane onto an exposed pipe, his increased momentum granting his weapon, and her face, an uncomfortably close proximity.

Despite the, admittedly impressive, display, Neyla's attention had instead been drawn to the familiar figure that was the white tigress, looking down at her from the rooftop, right next to the spike holding her in the air. With a single kick from the tigress' foot, the rusting metal rod submitted to the force of Neyla's weight, throwing her into freefall the instant she had narrowly avoided the golden sheen of Cooper's cane.

'Get out of my body,' the demand was distant but, at the same time, intimate, like the feminine voice was whispering into her ear through a pipe, yet was somehow capable of surrounding her as she tucked into a roll, absorbing the force of her collision with the top of a truck. Her momentum unhindered, Neyla tumbled over her shoulder and off the vehicle, returning to her feet in time to avoid Cooper's follow-up attack.

Sly turned his attention away from Neyla, instead focusing on her uncurled whip; the weapon's tip was still coiled around the spike like a tightly wound cord, having pulled the rusted metal shape to the concrete ground with a loud clatter. As he flipped off the truck, Sly expertly hooked the leather strip with his cane, giving the weapon a tug as his feet reconnected with the ground. As expected, Neyla had been so preoccupied with attempting to remove the obtrusive object from her weapon's grasp that the force from Sly's unorthodox manoeuvre had pulled her off-balance, forcing her onto her back.

Gasping, following the sudden lack of air in her lungs, Neyla groggily looked up from her prone position, eyeing Cooper as he smirked back at her, a peculiar mix of confidence and concern prominent in his expression.

'Alright Neyla,' he called, his cane resting on his shoulder, 'I say it's time we had ourselves a little chat.'

The aggravating feminine voice whispered into her ear, 'Listen to him, it will clear things up for the both of us.' Neyla grit her teeth as her eyes followed the trailing weapon to the spike, its rusted metal still wrapped in her whip's tight embrace some two metres behind Cooper; despite the force of his attack, the weapon was still in her grasp.

'Nothing to talk about; definitely nothing I wanna listen to.' With an awkward tug, the weight of the decoration vanished from her whip as Cooper was forced to duck to avoid the sharp metal hurtling towards the back of his head. The opening was minute, but nevertheless perfect, granting Neyla the seconds she needed to roll backwards and onto her feet.

Though he had managed to duck out of harm's way, Sly's panicked movements were incorrectly measured, as demonstrated by the unpleasant clang of metal crashing into his cane, forcing it from his grasp. Desperately scrambling for the heirloom, Sly palmed the weapon and turned back to his opponent, unsurprised to see her running for the main gate.

Moving promptly in an attempt to cut her off, Sly was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a tank, rolling into view from behind a nearby wall as its cannon fired a heavy round directly at him. Regardless, quick instincts enabled him to leap through the air, narrowly avoiding the shot as he landed atop the metal monstrosity, regaining his bearings to refocus his attention on Neyla.

Watching the spectacle from afar, Neyla adjusted her course, moving for the well as she stepped over the corpses of several mercenaries. Sitting on the lip of the well, the white tigress looked towards Cooper with admiration. 'You gotta admit, that was impressive,' for the first time since she had started pestering her, Neyla and the tigress were in agreement as she leapt into the well's gaping mouth, dropping elegantly to the wooden deck below.

Glancing towards the moat surrounding the castle, Neyla growled to see the boat that had been patrolling the waters had docked on the far shore, rendering such an escape route impossible. Hearing the sound of an athletic figure pursuing her down the well, Neyla broke into a run, slowing only briefly to crack her whip against a rotted wood column supporting the deck.

Sly staggered momentarily as the wood beneath his feet gave way, forcing his arms out to grab the deck, thereby preventing an unwanted dip into the foul water. A mental insult punctured his thoughts, reprimanding him for falling for such a simple trick as he restarted his pursuit in earnest.

Ascending the worn stone stairs leading to the rear of the castle, Neyla was granted a momentary respite when she saw that Cooper had vanished from her vision, if only momentarily; such an opening was all she needed to make her escape. Despite this, her momentum stalled when she returned her focus to her path, only to be met with the tigress, standing directly in her path.

'Why do you wanna give Arpeggio the Eye anyway?' her voice was clear this time, no longer a peculiar mix of distant and intimate tones. 'You know that no good can come of him getting his hands on it.'

'Maybe not, but it might get you to shut up,' Neyla shouted, turning back to see Cooper, charging towards her. A confused expression creased his features as his off-hand twisted the hook of his weapon counter-clockwise, causing the sound of a crackle to escape its tip.

'Talking to yourself are you?' he remarked, rapidly closing the gap between the two of them. Neyla paused, having taken in the display with the cane, barely reacting in time to duck out of the way of its swing. Despite the elegance of her movements, Neyla's eyes nonetheless widened as the weapon glided over her features, singing several hairs as it travelled; a wicked smile formed on her lips as she flipped away from her attacker, ducking behind a nearby gravestone to avoid another strike.

'That twisting thing he did just now sent an electric current through the cane,' the feminine voice said, despite lacking a point of origin. 'That Bentley guy sure is clever.'

Neyla leapt over another gravestone, the shrill clang of metal impacting stone music to her ears. 'You think you could maybe avoid admiring enemy weaponry when it's half an inch from my face?' she snarled under her breath, weaving through the cemetery as she scanned her surroundings for an escape route. A nearby underpass caught her eye, prompting yet another change in trajectory.

Sly wasn't a genius by any definition, but even he could see that Neyla was acting strange. Her random outbursts were bizarre, sure, but her arrogant mannerisms, impatient attitude and seemingly erratic strategies all contradicted what he knew about her.

Once again, Sly forced these thoughts out of his head; he had doubted Neyla's natural behaviour several times already, and he would never get a concrete answer until he confronted her.

Sly noticed Neyla glancing over her shoulder once again, muttering under her breath as she threw a mocking grin back at him. 'Glad to see you can still keep up, Cooper,' she yelled, turning back in time to see the large shadowed frame of a guillotine looming over her.

Sly cocked his head in confusion. 'Has her accent gone Cockney?' the irritating thought rattled through his brain, no matter how he tried to silence it. Changing accents as Neyla had done wasn't suspicious, just very weird.

Neyla flipped through the shadowed frame before cracking her whip against the lever, bringing the heavy blade down with a screech. Upon landing, Neyla was beyond frustrated to see the tigress sitting on a nearby bench, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle her laughter.

'Did you just make us Cockney?' she asked between giggles. 'What? You trying to prove to yourself that you're evil?' Neyla tried her hardest to ignore the woman's irritating titter, but found it frustratingly difficult due to the exaggerated accent she had put on.

'Stop playing mind games you gnat,' she snarled, darting up the wooden ramp that led back to the castle roof.

The voice persisted, despite her efforts to block it out, 'I'm not playing mind games; you're trying so hard to prove to me – to yourself – that I'm wrong. You want to believe that you're your own person; but you know, deep down, that I'm right. And you know that Arpeggio cannot get his hands on that Eye.'

With a single, powerful leap, Neyla propelled herself back onto the landing connecting the main building to the Contessa's tower; she hadn't even realised she had gone in a circle. 'Just shut up,' she yelled, pressing her palms against her temples.

'Neyla, you know that I'm right,' the tigress' sick, drained form materialised before her as she crouched down to look her in the eye. She continued, 'You know that you're not a normal person, and you know that this isn't your body… you know that you have to give it back.'

Neyla screamed, swinging wildly at the condescending brat with sharpened claws, 'You don't know anything. Just go away, you bastard!'

Sly had paused, only momentarily, when he had heard Neyla's screams from the upper landing. The woman's outburst had helped him catch up, but did not lead him to a sight he enjoyed.

Neyla was crouched in the centre of the landing, her forehead pressed against the castle's stonework, unresponsive to the trickling downpour that had begun to fall upon Prague as she continued to mutter incoherently under her breath. The strap of her satchel had come loose, allowing the bag to fall from her shoulder during her outburst; through the satchel's partially open flap, the Eye glared at him with what he could only describe as unadulterated malice. Silently, Sly reached for the leather pouch, careful not to alert Neyla to his presence as slung the strap over his shoulder, securing the artefact to his side.

Time for that chat.

'You really should be paying more attention,' he chided, slipping his cane into the holster on his back. Neyla's head snapped around to face him; her eyes were wide, skittish, like a crazed beast, as she registered the satchel hanging from his shoulder.

'Give it back,' she snarled, her voice harsh and gravelly, as she turned her entire body in his direction.

Sly scoffed, attempting to hide his horrified concern for Neyla's behaviour, 'Yeah, I don't think I'll do that. You don't really seem like the kinda person who should have something as dangerous as this.' Neyla charged at him, claws outstretched, in an effort to slice the leather strap from his shoulder. Sly moved to the side, having registered the obvious attack before she was anywhere near him; she wasn't thinking clearly, that much was obvious.

He continued, 'Now, first question: what exactly do you want with the Clockwerk Parts?' Neyla froze, looking away from him as she muttered to herself.

'I'm not telling him anything,' the words were somewhat difficult to discern, but he could nevertheless make them out. The thought that she had gone insane crossed his mind, but he disregarded it.

She charged him once more in an effort to take back the satchel, but he stayed out of her reach as he continued, 'Okay, simple question: do you know where I can find the other parts?'

Neyla yelled as she continued her attack, 'Both of you, shut up!' Sly was taken aback by the outburst; who was she talking to?

Sly intercepted a clawed hand as it swiped at his throat, locking her wrist in a tight grip to stop her attack; another hand attempted to continue the assault, but it also found itself restrained by his grip. He paused, mentally preparing himself as he looked into her crazed eyes. 'All that stuff back in India,' he began gingerly, 'was that all an act? Were you just trying to lower my guard so you could stab me in the back?'

Neyla's struggling came to an abrupt halt, much to his surprise, as she returned his gaze. She seemed to be contemplating her response, remaining silent, before attempting to break away, not realising that they had found themselves on the edge of the landing. Her foot slipped on the damp stonework, prompting a short, albeit violent, drop; Sly was forced to release her right hand so that he could stop himself from falling, instead securing his grip on a nearby gargoyle.

Sly looked down at her desperately, feebly attempting to regain eye contact. Through grit teeth he spoke, 'Look, Neyla, I like you, I really do – or, at least, the completely sane, charming woman I met before – so I'll ask again: was it an act, or not?'

Neyla struggled desperately to look away, but some other power forced her to look back up at Cooper.

For just a moment, Sly could see a hint of desperation in her eyes, like she was attempting to come to her senses.

'Help me.'

Her words were nigh inaudible, barely above a strained whimper, but held that same tone of desperation Sly had seen in her eyes. Once he was sure they wouldn't fall, he released his hold on the gargoyle and reached out to grab her hand, so as to pull her up-

A sharp pain jolted through his body as a vice-like grip seized his tail, pulling him away from the edge and away from Neyla. The claw-like hand released his tail as he tumbled across the rooftop, forcing himself into a backwards somersault as he grabbed his cane and brought it up to block his attacker's continued assault. A large claw attempted to pry the weapon from his grasp, only to jolt back as it felt the electric current coursing through the metal.

Ensuring the satchel was still at his side, Sly looked past his weapon to see the Contessa staring down at him with contempt.

'That Eye belongs to me.'

_______________

As Cooper disappeared from sight, so did his grip on Neyla, prompting the resumption of her violent descent.

Coming to her senses, Neyla realised her predicament as she twisted her body to make the descent less awkward, while trying to consider an escape route. Tugging at the cords dangling from the straps of the pack she had almost forgotten was there, Neyla's rapid descent came to an abrupt halt as her paraglider burst open, the sudden stop sending an agonising pain through her left shoulder.

Gritting her teeth so as to not let out a scream, Neyla gripped the paraglider's handles to guide herself to the main gate, grinding to a halt in the middle of the cluttered courtyard. Stumbling over corpses and rubble, she awkwardly slipped the paraglider's pack from her shoulders as she hobbled towards the bridge.

Gripping her dislocated shoulder, she grit her teeth as she forced it back into place, suppressing yet another scream as she spotted the tigress leaning against a nearby wall, 'Y'know, I heard somewhere that you should never reset a dislocated body part on your own.'

'You do not have permission to talk,' Neyla spat as she stumbled across the bridge, 'your little cry for help nearly got me killed.'

Approaching the steps leading into the bank, Neyla spotted the tigress once again, sitting next to the collapsed body of the rhinoceros from earlier. 'Technically, I nearly got us both killed,' she noted, looking down at the mercenary as though trying to discern whether he was alive or dead. 'And besides, you survived, didn't ya? More than I can say about this poor guy.'

Refusing to acknowledge the apparition, Neyla opened the heavy door leading into the old building, 'I told him I'd help if he was alive when I got back,' she was talking more to herself than the apparition, as though attempting to justify her actions. 'He wasn't, end of story.'

The tigress had begun to respond when Neyla's attention was swiped away from her by the man standing at the back of the room, near the entrance of the vault. The toucan's tall, lanky form was abnormal enough, when compared to Prague's gothic aesthetic, but the twitching shoulder cannon was all too synonymous with Arpeggio's personal guard. The look on his face suggested he'd been awaiting her arrival for only a few minutes.

He held up a small, rectangular device as he walked towards her. 'The boss said you might need this,' his voice was unrefined, thuggish, as though he hadn't spent a day of his life in a classroom. The device in his hand was unfamiliar, but she had accepted that as commonplace in regards to Arpeggio's creations.

'Wait,' the aggravating voice protested in the back of her mind, 'don't let him. Neyla, that thing will put you under his control, you won't be able to control your actions!'

'It scares you for a reason,' she muttered, 'I think it might make you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of… tell me I'm wrong.'

The voice fell silent as the thug spoke up once more, 'Uh… just hold still, Miss Neyla.' She obliged as a soothing melody began to flood from the device, watching with curiosity as a canvas of colour began to engulf her vision.

'No…' despite her persistence, the tigress' irritating voice was overwhelmed by the colours and sounds bombarding Neyla's senses. For just a moment, her body went rigid, before dropping to her knees to coincide with the sudden departure of the music and colour. Shaking her head to empty her thoughts, Neyla returned to her feet, an air of clarity in her mind for the first time in days; she hadn't even realised how long that irritating whelp had been pestering her.

'How do you feel my dear?' the sophisticated and refined voice startled Neyla from her daze, prompting a hasty scan of the room to see where her master was hiding. She was taken aback to see a translucent, life-sized projection of Arpeggio coming from the thug's, now static, shoulder cannon. The projection was imperfect, making it difficult to discern the finer details of Arpeggio's expression, but he appeared to be looking at Neyla with legitimate concern, something unfamiliar to her.

'Better,' she replied, making no effort to hide her relief, 'thank you sir.'

The projection appeared to smile in response to Neyla's polite tone. 'I'm glad to have been of service,' he said, seeming to respond with a mock bow. 'Now, I have been out of the country on urgent business, as I'm sure you are aware,' Neyla nodded. 'But while I was away, I was concerned that prolonged periods without treatment might have some… negative side effects on your wellbeing, so I dispatched this underling to treat you to a small session to clear your mind.

'I'm curious, my pet, have you been subjected to any unpleasantness as of late?' Neyla growled at the question.

'Of course I have,' she responded angrily, before breaking into a lengthy explanation of her recent suffering. She explained how a pale, mirror image of herself had frequently appeared to her throughout her mission, how this apparition had frequently caused her to doubt her loyalty by spinning lies about Cooper and Arpeggio, and how her distractions had nearly gotten her killed when she fell from the castle roof.

Arpeggio listened intently throughout all of this, considering the situation carefully as he devised a plan. As he had feared, it sounded as though his imperfect hypnotism had allowed the real Neyla to whisper deceptions into his obedient slave, thereby preventing her from carrying out her mission; he had almost forgotten exactly why he had been using the Contessa to dominate the girl's mind, but this newfound revelation more than reminded him.

'It sounds as though there's nothing we can do at this exact moment,' he concluded after a moment's hesitation. 'Don't let this recent distress distract you from your mission there, my pet. Ensure the Contessa is dealt with, recover the Eyes if you can, then meet me back on the airship; we'll discuss this further when you arrive.'

Neyla looked at her master with confusion, before nodding in acknowledgement. No additional words were spoken as she turned and marched out the door, leaving the thug alone with Arpeggio's projection.

'Thank you kindly, underling,' the parrot said to the toucan, before his visage vanished from the room.

High above the clouds, in his personal quarters at the rear of the airship, Arpeggio considered the recent revelations with concern.

If he found no method through which to perfect his hypnotism, and Neyla continued to corrupt the mind of his creation to such an extent that it was no longer safe to keep her around…

Then Neyla's usefulness would come to an end far sooner than he anticipated.

_______________

Sly, Bentley and Murray had managed to slip out of Prague without much incident, returning to their hideout in Paris after hearing that Interpol had ceased monitoring the area, since Neyla had reported seeing them at the Contessa's castle.

Despite tasting victory once again, the uncomfortable air that had formed around the trio persisted, leaving the house in a depressing silence. Bentley had disappeared into his workshop, apparently further investigating Jean Bison's operations in Canada, while Sly and Murray occupied themselves in the living room. Sly sat at his desk in the far corner, pretending to re-read Thaddeus Winslow Cooper's section of the Thievius Raccoonus as he watched his friend invest himself into some car racing video game.

Ever since their initial observations after the riots, Sly and Bentley had agreed to keep a watchful eye on Murray's behaviour, to ensure that the Contessa hadn't broken his mind or something along those lines. He was pleased to see, therefore, that outside of some unnecessary aggression following the jailbreak, Murray seemed to have returned to his normal, child-like self.

Silently closing the book, Sly looked away from his hippopotamus friend and gazed out the window, taking in the tapestry of constellations formed by the miniscule lights against the deep blue of the night sky.

Sly hadn't told Bentley the specifics of his encounter with Neyla, nor had he told Murray that he'd seen the tigress at all, out of fear that he would go berserk after hearing that he'd missed his opportunity to exact his revenge on her. Nevertheless, he had gone over the encounter dozens of times, trying to make sense of her nonsensical and contradictory behaviour, and every theory he had was more ridiculous than the last. One such theory suggested that the Contessa had brainwashed her, thereby forcing her to act against her natural instincts. Initially, he'd scoffed at the idea, but, the more he considered it, the more it made some strange sort of sense to him.

He knew that someone else had to be involved in Neyla's peculiar behaviour, be it the Contessa or someone like Arpeggio, but still, he could not come to a perfect conclusion.

Sly had no doubt that he'd run into Neyla again, sooner or later, and when that happened, he would have to get answers. Otherwise, he'd probably go insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've done any kind of action scene, so I could really do with some feedback on how to do that better.


End file.
